


The Seven Chairs

by psychicmewhealer



Category: No Fandom, Original Work, The Mysteries of Harris Burdick - Chris Van Allsburg
Genre: Asphyxiation, Burning Man, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Dystopia, Evil Corporations, Gen, Hedonism, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Overworking, POV Male Character, POV Original Character, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Panic Attacks, Paris (City), Past Child Abuse, Philosophy, References to 1984 - George Orwell, Satire, School, Social Commentary, Social Issues, Torture, happiness is meaningless, references to brave new world - aldous huxley, references to milgram experiment, school stress, screw jeremy bentham, society bad, utilitarianism is trash, yes the name is based on spamalot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychicmewhealer/pseuds/psychicmewhealer
Summary: Frederick Lancelot wants a promotion to become one of the Seven Chairs of his company, the Tenebra Corporation. To do so, he must volunteer at their five Happiness Centers. What he finds is unexpected.--Or: me ranting about society for 2k words.





	The Seven Chairs

The marble entrance hall was vast and echoed loudly. The smell of window cleaner permeated every corner of the hall. Nevertheless, the Tenebra Happiness Center in Paris managed to seem immensely warm and comforting.

Intending to create an atmosphere of calm, nothing was on the entrance floor of the building except the reception desks in the back. This left the quarter-mile lines of desperate customers outside the building, but Frederick had made his way through those with his repute and clearances. Not that he was coming here for treatment, anyway.

The receptionist’s TeneVision contact lenses, an augmented reality system fully integrated with his brain, automatically detected Frederick’s TeneVision system and its clearances with an explanation of his circumstances. Overcoming his initial confusion as to why a high-level official made his way into the Center, his mouth uttered French as the translated text appeared above his head.

> Mr. Lancelot! Mr. Lancelot! You don’t look like your picture.

Frederick Lancelot held back a groan. He did not need more people to remind him of the weight he had lost over the past couple of weeks. Mr. Leroy had a platter of fruit on the magnetic table, but Frederick held back. He had quashed the feeling of hunger out of his memory long ago.

Nevertheless, Frederick sighed in relief. The translator servers still worked. Hopefully, his TeneVision translating software would work for Mr. Leroy. Otherwise, his visit to France would be no different than his visits to New York, Cairo, Belgium, and Hong Kong. Possibly even worse.

Frederick’s head felt like bowling balls. It fell along with his eyelids. The plane ride to France did not allow him much sleep. But as the motto of Tenebra Corporation said,  Believe, and it shall be, as it was lit onto his navy blue tuxedo along with his full name and titles. So he did not allow exhaustion to enter his mind.

To keep himself awake, he thought of why he was here. He thought of his boss, Ms. Cortana Brinn, with her neon blue eyes, making the deal with him concerning his job, and about the promotion he could have if he was to volunteer at the seven major Tenebra Happiness Centers to demonstrate his loyalty to the company, even if he did not understand what he did. He had made the first four visits already. At each visit, he would do nothing other than send files and proofread the documents. He didn’t remember what the documents said. But he made the visits anyway, and the fifth one ended up in France. Two more to go. Then he could be one of the chief officers, one of the heads of the Tenebra Corporation, as he had always dreamed about in the few moments before he slept.

“Hello, Mr. Leroy. Happy to meet you.” Frederick forced a painful smile, stretching his hand. 

> I received your ping. A volunteer assistant position is available. If you know which plug goes into which hole, you’ll be set.

“Again, thank you for allowing me to volunteer here,” Frederick responded.

> My pleasure, Mr. Lancelot. Head up onto floor 1, and the first door on your left leads to Room 101. Then you’ll be good to go.

The small entry room of Room 101 and was lit with a few dim lights on the ceiling. Black and blue wires were strewn about on the floor in unkempt knots, slithering under the opposite door to connect to something in an inner room.

A slim, blonde woman was organizing the wires on the floor. Translated text appeared above her head as she spoke:

> Mr. Lancelot! Happy to meet you!

“H―”

More text appeared with a ping on top of her head:

> **nox.ly**
> 
> **@lele.03: Join my livestream** as I spend the day with the one and only @therealFredLancelot! He does great work at @tenebra. No wonder he’s famous! @nox.ly #fangirling #BelieveAndItShallBe

Frederick groaned. 

> Can you tell us why you’re here?

she asked, removing her black wire-rimmed glasses to accentuate a young face with puffy lips.

Frederick interrupted. “Please don’t livestream me now. I’m working. Thank you, but I don’t appreciate the attention now. To the fans, I love you guys, but please don’t disturb me.”

A heartbreak emoji animated on her chest. The nox.ly live text disappeared from over the woman's head.

> Sorry. Call me Lenina, and nothing else. In this place, I’m in charge. Hello, Mr. Lancelot.

“Hello, Lenina. What should I do? After all,” Frederick forced a chuckle, “you’re in charge here.” Lenina pointed to the inside door leading to the inner room. 

> There is a voltage meter. I will ping you access to it. When I tell you to turn up the knob, you do it. No whats, no buts, no coconuts. All right, Mr. Lancelot?

“Yes, ma’am.”

Finding his way around the wires and to the door, Frederick entered the even smaller, darker inner room with no internal light at all. It was lit only through the window, which spanned the entire wall opposite the door, between it and the adjacent innermost room. Next to the window stood a four-foot-long dashboard of incomprehensible knobs, switches, and sliders on a table. As Frederick stood by one of its modules, text appeared above it:

> **Room 101 VoltKnob** **  
> **Access accepted. Welcome, **Frederick**.

_Ping._

> **Lenina:** Ready?
> 
> **Frederick:** Ready.

_Ping._

> **Lenina:** Turn the voltage up.

There should never have been a window between the rooms.

It showed Frederick what was going on in the massive room across from him. Its walls sported long window-style mirrors. Otherwise, those walls were simple iron slabs with a sleekly curved roof. Two figures in monk’s clothing stood in front of a simple floating metal chair, which had a flat metal surface with a woman dressed in nun’s garb sitting on it. She breathed loudly, but no one heard.

> **Lenina:** Turn the voltage up.

Frederick turned one of the knobs clockwise. The chair lit up, glowing red and reflecting the scarlet sheen onto the mirrors. The standing figures stood still and watched. The person in the chair screamed like bars of rusted metal rubbing against each other. Her outfit became singed with flames.

There was another noise resonating across the room other than the scream.

It was the slow chant of something Frederick had heard hundreds of times.

“Believe, and it shall be. Believe, and it shall be. Believe, and it shall be.”

* * *

_I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to believe I’m causing the voltage to rise and the chair to burn and the woman to scream. I want to believe that the Tenebra fixed the world, that the world is perfect. I must believe, and it shall be._ Believe, and it shall be  . Frederick found comfort in those words he heard every day. But deep down inside, Fred knew the raw, hard, unadulterated truth.

_But then I can’t get my job. I must see what’s going on for me to figure out if I’m doing my job. For me to prove to Cortana that I did my job._

Frederick stood face-to-face with the biggest dilemma of his life.

> **Lenina:** Turn the voltage up.

Frederick remained at the module, his hands shaking. It did not matter if he hid his nervousness; it was still there.

_I need to get the job. I need to get the job._

> **Frederick:** I’ll turn up the voltage, Lenina, but what is this process?
> 
> **Lenina:** I told you not to ask questions, but I’ll explain the process now. It trains the recipient to control their own reality. If they experience pain or negativity, they can refuse to believe it, and it will not exist.
> 
> **Lenina:** Turn the voltage up.

Frederick snarled.

_If I want the truth about the girl in pain, then I want the truth about myself. I want the truth about the world and about my life and about everything. I don’t care if it’s negative, or sad, or painful. I want to accept it._

Frederick remembered himself that day.

He remembered his mother. Oh, his mother. He knew why he chose to forget his mother. Every memory with his mother involved clothes hangers and frying pans and blood on the floor and pain. He recalled the screams of _insufferable monster, why are you in my life,_ and _I’ll never love you_. Skipping meals, too petrified to run down the stairs like his classmates could. Frederick did not remember his father ‒ he must have left him at a young age. But Fred remembered where his inner emptiness came from. This ‒ and school.

He would barely pay attention, he was so afraid. And the report cards, how they mattered so much. A red serif letter on paper that cut you in your tracks when you thought you might be good enough but you had a bad grade in that class so you brought that higher and studied harder, slept less, worked more.

He remembered anticipating this procedure in the Happiness Centers, which would take the pain away for the rest of his life, and it would be pure bliss, as it said on the YouTube ads when that rudimentary entertainment website still existed. You would use it once, and pain would be gone forever.

And he remembered having it. How much it hurt and burned! His clothes that day were all white, and they turned an ashy gray. He had to visit the hospital to regrow his skin from all the burns.

He remembered his job. He remembered every night until today, working overtime with his eyes sunken as if they were steel at the bottom of the ocean.

He remembered feelings. He remembered anger, sadness, pain, fear, guilt. He felt them breaking his core at the moment like a metal hammer to a soft glass.

In addition to remembering fragments of self he had lost in the process of time and belief, he found why he had the promotion. He had thought the voice telling him to improve was himself, but in actuality, it was his mother and his teachers and everyone in his life who told him he was not good enough, which, he guessed, was everyone.

Now that he thought about it and grasped the truth, Tenebra Corporation was the one corporation in the world. Hell, it was basically the _government,_ as the official one had a condom for President and Kim Kardashian as Counselor.

And now that he thought about it, he realized that he was one of the most influential people on the planet, and there were issues around him every day he chose to ignore. How many times on the street did he see someone holding a cardboard sign, begging for money, even though physical money had gone out of circulation ten years ago? How many times did he hear of someone on nox.ly post about their dead relative in a terrorist attack? And how many more problems was he not focusing on because he was too busy being happy?

How selfish of him.

> **Lenina:** Turn the voltage up.

Frederick did not know why, did not know how, but something was happening to his face; red rings formed around his eyes, his face turning a lighter shade of that same color. He felt his eyelashes gathering moisture. And his face. Droplets were running on his face and were falling on the floor. He felt something in his throat like a rock and collapsed on the floor. He tried to inhale, but nothing happened. He could not think of anything or feel anything other than anxiety. As he attempted to turn the voltage knob, his arm was too tense to move. He struggled to ping Lenina for help.

> **Lenina:** Turn the voltage up.
> 
> **Frederick:** Even if I could, I wouldn’t.
> 
> **Lenina:** You’re crazy.
> 
> **Frederick:** Help.

* * *

Frederick opened his eyes. He laid in a white bed in a small, empty, white room. _A hospital. I remember this._

The doctor was short and stout with brown hair that was curly like a poodle’s. As he spoke, translated text appeared above his head:

> Hello, Mr. Lancelot. This is a ‒

“ _Hospital,_ I know. I remember.”

> It was strange that you remember. Usually, people — 

“Yes. I’ve gone to a Happiness Center before. I don’t use their treatments.”

> Okay. Strange.

“Don’t judge.”

> Well, all of your vitals look fine to me, except for a temporary irregular heart rate and high blood pressure. Otherwise, you’re ready to go.

After the doctor turned to enter the information into his TeneVision, Frederick flicked off one of his contacts, but he left the other on for communication. He examined the difference in vision before and after he had taken it off. Color grading and saturation enhancements dimmed to reveal a gray and drab world. And yet, it seemed that it had more soul than when he had worn the contact.

Frederick began to remember what had happened before he arrived here. His eyes misted, and his heart became as heavy as a million dumbbells. But he somehow felt stronger, as if his memories were a weight on his mind that he carried for the sake of Truth. As if every second of pain which he had gone through was worth remembering because it was true. Frederick’s lips turned up at the corners. Although his pain and the pain of those around him was a grave injustice, Falsehood was a far greater enemy. His eyes lit up, but he did not use his TeneVision to lighten his vision for him. He let his eyes work for themselves.

Frederick heard a ping. He struggled to read the text through his contact over the mist. He blinked twice to clear it away.

> **Cortana:** Congratulations, Frederick. You are now one of the Seven Chairs of the Tenebra Corporation.

As if Frederick’s day could get any better. _I got the job! Even without going to Wellington or Lagos, Cortana thinks I’m good enough!_

Frederick paused and corrected himself. _I’m good enough! And it’s true!_

He felt the memories of his mother screaming reside in the back of his mind, where they should be. He could still think of them, but his mother was no longer a guardian in his mind. She was merely a reminder of what had happened in his past. 

> **Frederick:** Thank you, boss! But I didn’t go to ― 
> 
> **Cortana:** I know you didn’t finish the tasks or go to Wellington or Shanghai. But how could I expect that from you if you ended up in the hospital?
> 
> **Frederick:** It wasn’t ―
> 
> **Cortana:** Sure, you had some thoughts and remarks that weren’t in line with the values of the company. I understand that. But we just have to believe, and it shall be. I know it’ll work out. You worked hard and I’m not going to expect more volunteering from you after your hard work got you into the ER.
> 
> **Frederick:** …
> 
> **Frederick:** Thank you for your trust in me! I won’t let you down.
> 
> **Cortana:** Can you give hints on what you can do to improve this company?
> 
> **Frederick:** I can’t tell you, but you can be sure there will be significant policy changes when I’m around.
> 
> **Cortana:** 😉 Good luck!


End file.
